Samantha Rak

Death As Itself

Blowing in the breeze I saw DeathUpon wing like any other birdBut Death was not sing son Death sang with a dreadful crow! Death would perch outside my window waitingALWAYS waitingWaiting outside my windowThough always quietAs if it were listening for something, someonethen, one day, on the Eve of All HollowsIt left with a great flurry and a TERRIBLE cryIt leftLittle did I know that it was I it had been waiting forand it was I who had left in a flurry and a terrible cryFor I am Death as itself